


and in your bones i will carve my story

by Golden_maple



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, character death but in dreams does it count, im not sure what the fuck im doing with this plot, the rest of the blue lions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 10:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20581085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_maple/pseuds/Golden_maple
Summary: Felix dreams of a place that he has never been to. And feels the loss of loving a man that isn't his.





	and in your bones i will carve my story

Felix dreams of sandstone brick walls and torch-lit halls. Of brass buttons on thickly padded uniforms and intricate golden embroidery. The clash of metal on metal join alongside the cacophony of students whispers that slowly become yelling. He doesn’t understand. It doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t feel right. There is something inside of him. Ugly, angry and spreading inside him; viscous and oozing into all of his thoughts. He is angry, filled with a righteous fury, fuelled by untamed hatred. He sees blue. Blue flags, a cloak and shining bright eyes that remind him of someone. 

He sees corn silk hair and sky-blue eyes. Dimpled cheeks and a full smile.

Dimitri. 

But this Dimitri is not his own. Eyes bright but empty. Smile sweet like candy but cold. Words polite and gentle but there is something not right. His voice is the same. He can hear the tone but his words. 

Who is he? 

This isn’t his Dimitri. There is a wave of irrational anger that fills him. Felix is yelling. He knows his mouth is moving, lips pulled into a snarl, cruel words leaving his lips without discretion. 

Why? Why is he so angry? 

This Dimitri doesn’t react. He simply smiles ad turns away. This isn’t his Dimitri. 

Felix knows this is a dream. But it feels real. He can feel the heavy padding of his coat. He can smell the sweat and the sharp scent of metal. He can feel the heat of the sun bearing down on him. 

“Hey, Felix?” He turns and he sees a shock of red hair. Sylvain. Beautiful, vibrant Sylvain is there in front of him. But he is wrong. There is something wrong about him. His smile is beautiful and open as ever, eyes sharp with hidden wit. But his smile is too wide, and his eyes are blank. A touch on the shoulder. Heavy and real. But Felix feels ill. He wants it off. This isn’t his Sylvain. His words are the same though. Ridiculously flirtatious, under hands want layering his words. A silver tongue even in his dreams.

“Meet me later?” He says and Felix wants to say no. But he says yes. Sylvain cups his face and smiles but doesn’t lean in. Somehow Felix knows they can’t be seen. If they are it will end whatever they have and so he slaps away Sylvain’s warmth and turns away. 

He is walking. He doesn’t know where he is. Where this place is. It is foreign yet painfully familiar. The sword on his hip feels right at home although he knows he has never held a sword in his life. There is a deep humming in his bones. He doesn’t know why. He feels ripped open and his nerves exposed. Something is wrong. But he doesn’t know what. He knows he doesn’t belong here, but the uniform is a tailored fit. He belongs here.

He walks and walks but there is no one in sight. And then he realizes it is silent. There is no chatter, no birds, no clashing of swords. Eerily quiet. He looks forward and sees a church.

He is not religious.

But he feels the pull, the pulsing energy as he makes his way forward. He wants, no, needs to know what is inside. He runs. Like something is chasing him, there is uncontained, unexplainable fear that rushes through him and he knows he doesn’t have much time. He is at the steps and races forward. His chest feels tight. He is terrified but he doesn’t know why. There is no longer silence. Chanting and humming fills the air and he is feeling ill again.

He grasps the doors off the church, but it is closed. Why is it closed? Why? Something is coming for him he can feel it. Why isn’t the door opening?

Why? WHY? WHY? There’s shouting. 

Something grabs hold of him. 

He screams. 

“Felix!”

He snaps up with a shout before taking in a deep breath. He looks around and sees the comfort of his room. He curls and leans his head against his knees. 

“Babe? Babe are you alright?” He waits for a beat, calming himself before he turns and looks at warm brown eyes. He doesn’t know what to say. But he knows this is his Sylvain. He reaches out and strong arms wrap around him. The gentle smell of cinnamon puts him at ease. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Felix thinks. 

“No,” he says. “Maybe in the morning when it’s not so fresh,” he adds after a beat. 

“Hmm. Alright. Do you want me to turn on the bedside lamp?” Sylvain asks. Felix thinks of the dim torch-lit halls and then nods. A click and warm light fill the room. Felix squints for a bit before looking at Sylvain. Gentle brown eyes and fiery red hair. His Sylvain. Real, beautiful. He is hit with a strong sense of loss and his heart feels tight. He kisses him once. Twice. Three times for good measure, to stop the painful longing in his chest. He feels a loss deep in his core and he doesn’t understand. Sylvain chuckles and strokes his hair gently. 

“Whoa, what’s got you in a frenzy huh?” Felix doesn’t give him a response. He pushes Sylvain down and promptly lays on top of him. Another chuckle. Strong arms are around him and the thick blanket is pulled up to his chest. 

He is warm. He is safe. He should feel at ease. But he doesn’t. There is something that is putting him on edge. He is scared to close his eyes. But he is tired. The adrenaline is gone. He listens to Sylvain’s steady breathing and tries to follow it. It doesn’t take long before he’s asleep again. 

Felix dreams of sandstone brick walls and torch-lit halls. Of brass buttons on thickly padded uniforms and intricate golden embroidery. He hears yelling and cries of agony and the sound of clashing metal. He looks down to his hands. 

They’re stained red with blood.

**Author's Note:**

> im so very sleep deprived. im pretty sure im taking this down later because im not actually sure how much sense this makes


End file.
